


Move Ins to Finals

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Series: SPN Kink Bingo 2019 [53]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: College AU, College Roommates, English Major!Balthazar, M/M, Mentioned Sam Winchester/Garth Fitzgerald IV, Mentions of a Hate Crime, Mentions of homophobia, Roommates, Violin Major!Crowley, handjobs, mentions of underage drinking (in the US at least), shower handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 01:04:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18216098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: When Balthazar Roche met Fergus MacLeod, AKA “Crowley”, when they moved into their dorms, he had no idea what would happen.





	Move Ins to Finals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GalaxyPixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyPixel/gifts).



> This is for the wonderful @your-sparklywinnercollection! He wanted this, so I wrote it!! I hope you enjoy, love!!
> 
> Crossposted on tumblr
> 
> Written for the Roommates Square on my SPN Kink Bingo Card Round 3!!

Balthazar Roche sighed as he taped the last Cher poster to the brick wall of his dorm room, leaning back in satisfaction as he observed Cher, Juice Newton, and The Angels posters he had and he beamed at his best friend, Gabriel. “Thanks for helping me move in, angel,” he cooed. “I appreciate it.” 

“Of course, Bal,” Gabriel snorted, popping the Tootsie pop he had in his mouth and pointing it at Balthazar. “I have to support my best friend. It’s in the handbook.” He looked over at the empty side of the room before looking at Balthazar. “I take it you haven’t met your roommate yet.” 

“Not yet,” Balthazar agreed. “I’m nervous, Gabe. Why aren’t you coming here?” 

“Because the culinary arts program here is shit,” Gabriel snorted. “Otherwise, I’d be here. But you know me. When I’m not doing breads, I’ll be around.” 

Balthazar hugged his best friend. “I’m going to miss you.”

“And I, you,” Gabriel said. 

Just then, a young-ish looking woman with a shock of flaming red hair peeped her head in. She was wearing a floor length purple dress with lace sleeves, despite the August heat. “Excuse me,” she purred in a Scottish accent. “Is this where Fergus is going to be residing?” 

“If you mean Fergus MacLeod, then yes, ma’am,” Balthazar said politely. “I’d be his roommate.” 

“Oh, wonderful!” The woman looked around. “It’s going to be a wee bit cramped in here, isn’t it?” 

“Just a bit, ma’am,” Balthazar agreed. “But I’m sure we’ll manage.” He held out his hand to shake. “Balthazar Roche, ma’am.” 

“Rowena, Fergus’s mother,” the woman introduced herself. 

“ _ Enchanté, madame, _ ” Balthazar purred, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it. 

“Oh! A gentleman,” Rowena cooed. Balthazar cast her a wink.

“Mother,” a new voice said in a dry tone. They turned to see a tall young man in a black suit and with black hair combed neatly back. “You’re drooling.” 

“Oh come on, Fergus,” Rowena simpered. “Your roommate was being a gentleman, that’s all.” 

“Sure, Mother, and how many times do I have to tell you?” Fergus sighed. “It’s  _ Crowley. _ ” 

“Yes, Fergus,” Rowena sighed in a put upon away. “Where you got that  _ dreadful  _ name I’ll never know.”

Balthazar knew. “Aleister Crowley?” He guessed. 

Fergus- Crowley- however he wanted to be called- nodded in half surprise. “Lucky guess?” He asked. 

“I’ve got a little brother who’s into esotericism,” Balthazar said. “It’s hard to talk about esotericism in the Western world unless you look at Aleister Crowley, especially when discussing Thelema and his Tarot deck. Have you looked at it? It’s quite remarkable.”

The young man nodded and looked at his mother. “I’ve got everything, you can go now,” he said. 

“Oh, but don’t you need help setting up?” Rowena asked softly. 

“I’m sure that my nameless roommate and I will be fine, along with Sugar Tooth,” her son replied. 

“I actually have to skedaddle,” Gabriel said. “I’ve got my own drive to do.” He looked at Balthazar. “I’ll message when I get there,” he promised. 

“You better, candy thief,” Balthazar grinned. “Later, Trickster.”    
“Later, Wino,” Gabriel said, finger gunning him before heading off. 

Crowley raised a brow. “Boyfriend?” he asked nonjudgmentally. 

“ _ Fergus _ ,” Rowena said sharply. 

“Nah, just my best friend,” Balthazar said. “Mrs. MacLeod, I can help him unpack and show him around, especially if you have other needs to attend to.”

“Well, I do have that ladies’ dinner to attend to,” Rowena said. 

“Splendid,” Crowley said. “Thank you, Mother.” 

Rowena kissed his cheek. “Be good, and for heaven’s sake, don’t bug Balthazar with that fiddle of yours.”

“It’s a violin,” Crowley said patiently. “Good bye, Mother.” 

Rowena rolled her eyes and smiled at Balthazar. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Balthazar,” she said warmly. 

“Believe me, ma’am,” Balthazar smirked. “The pleasure’s all mine.” 

The two young men waited until Rowena left before sighing. “Helicopter mother?” Balthazar asked sympathetically. 

“Occasionally, usually when I’m adjusting to something new,” Crowley admitted. “She seems to like you, though- Balthazar?” 

“Yes,” Balthazar smiled. “I’m sorry for not properly introducing myself.” 

“Were your parents drunk on a balthazar of wine when they named you?” Crowley asked. 

Balthazar sighed. “I wish. I’m actually named after the traditionally youngest Magi that brought gifts to the Christ child,” he said. “Well, the name that the Westerners gave.” 

Crowley gave a not bad face. “What’s your major?” he asked. 

“English,” Balthazar said. 

“Ah, an easy major,” Crowley scoffed. “Music major, violin specialty.” 

“Wonderful,” Balthazar said. “Why aren’t you in the music majors building, then?” 

Crowley made a face. “Mother decided to alter my paperwork to state my major was undecided, which stuck me here,” he said. “There was quite a row.” 

Somehow, Balthazar had a feeling that it was going to be a  _ long  _ semester. 

 

The first two weeks of classes weren’t so bad. Both of them had 8 AMs- granted, on alternating days, but it did help them keep to a consistent schedule. They were both hiding alcohol in their room, and they had an unspoken agreement to keep quiet about the other’s stash. They tasted each other’s stash- Crowley’s Craig, Balthazar’s Cabernet- and kept to their own. At night, until 2 AM, their agreed upon bedtime, they’d study with headphones in because they had opposing music interests. That, and Balthazar really didn’t want Crowley’s music theory homework be tested on his own music. 

Something happened two weeks into the semester that made Balthazar want to escape from this universe. 

There were no free practice rooms open. And there wouldn’t be that night. 

But Crowley  _ had  _ to practice. He practiced the violin every night. 

“Balthazar?” Crowley asked. “Do you mind if I practice in here tonight? There’s no practice rooms.” 

Balthazar, stupidly, agreed. “It’s fine,” he assured Crowley. “I’ve got Cher.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes and nodded. “Thank you, I’ll make sure this doesn’t become a habit,” he said. 

Balthazar nodded and put his headphones on, turning up the volume a little on Cher’s “Just Like Jesse James”. 

That’s when Balthazar learned several things about the violin. 

Now, the violin is a beautiful instrument, especially when it is tuned properly and it’s not being played by an amateur. Even he could agree to that. 

However. 

An untuned violin, even in the hands of a good violinist, Balthazar is certain is a torture designed by Satan himself.

He was going to suffer hearing loss from steadily turning up the volume on his headphones and computer. He had an essay on the themes in Hamlet for his Shakespeare class due the next morning and he was certain that he was going to follow Ophelia's example and find himself a body of water to submerge himself in.

Balthazar was not a musician. Not by any stretch of the imagination. He can enjoy it and appreciate it, but producing it was a talent he didn't possess. But he's certain it shouldn't take an hour to tune your instrument. 

Once it was finally tuned to Crowley's satisfaction, however, it was evident that Crowley's faithful dedication to his craft paid off, because the music  _ was _ beautiful, he had to give it that. 

But it was loud. It cut through Balthazar's loud music in his headphones like a fork through a fantastic roast. And as much as Balthazar could appreciate classical music, it does have the tendency to make him sleepy. Probably because his parents used it as a form of lullaby for him. 

He took out his phone and checked to see if there was any free computers anywhere. There wasn't. And the common area was rambunctious. 

This required wine. And Gabriel. 

He pulled up Gabriel's number and texted him. 

_ To Gabemeister: I am being driven to drink while writing Shakespeare stuff. Fuck me.  _

He got a text back as he poured himself a large glass of his wine. The music ceased briefly, but Balthazar didn't allow himself to fall into a false sense of security. His younger brother was musically inclined, he wasn't an idiot. He checked his phone as he took a sip.

_ To Baltsalt: oh no. Crow not working out for you? _

_ To Gabemeister: I told you he's a violin major right? _

_ To Baltsalt: oh no. No practice rooms?  _

_ To Gabemeister: there's a reason why “violin” is only a letter change and an added letter away from “violent”  _

_ To Baltsalt: Do you need music? I can recommend a playlist _

_ To Gabemeister: I would rather be Ophelia atm.  _

_ To Baltsalt: Stop being overly dramatic. There's only room for one overly dramatic gay in this friendship.  _

_ To Gabemeister: Gabe, you're pan _

_ To Baltsalt: and you're gay.  _

_ To Gabemeister: … Not helpful _

_ To Baltsalt: you mean you WEREN'T stating the obvious?  _

_ To Gabemeister: Help me. He's playing Bach rn.  _

_ To Baltsalt: fuck him _

_ To Gabemeister: NO _

_ To Baltsalt: why not?  _

_ To Gabemeister: I would rather not feel like Watson seducing Holmes away from his violin with the promises of sex. _

_ To Gabemeister: Also I’d rather be attracted to a bear.  _

_ To Baltsalt: You’d be eaten. And didn’t know you were into bestiality?  _

_ To Gabemeister: You’re ridiculous.  _

_ To Baltsalt: Takes one to know one. And I’m going to bed, I’ve got to be up at 4. _

_ To Gabemeister: Sleep well.  _

_ To Baltsalt: You too. Try not to commit roommate-cide.  _

Balthazar set his phone aside and poured himself another glass of wine before checking the time. He had two hours to finish this essay before bed, plus he’d have another hour and a half . 

And Crowley was still playing the violin. 

Balthazar sighed and pumped the music in his headphones up a little louder. 

He was going to be deaf as fuck by the end of the semester if he wasn’t careful. He texted his father to see if he could work noise cancelling headphones into his budget, explaining the reasoning and got back to work on this essay. 

 

August turned into September, and September turned into October. Crowley and Balthazar took their studies somewhat seriously, but also explored the extracurriculars that the school had to offer. Crowley joined a music fraternity, probably to gain connections. Balthazar considered joining a fraternity, but decided against it. He was a partier, but his parties typically consisted of many men in too little clothing rocking into him. Many,  _ many _ men. He did, however, join the campus LGBT club, and even helped organize the tailgating event before the Homecoming game. 

Crowley ended up dating a woman named Naomi, who played viola and Balthazar instinctively  _ hated  _ her. 

Probably because he would often be a victim of “sexile”. He’d come back from his algebra class, wanting to put his head through a wall and looking forward to a small glass of wine while watching dumb shit on Youtube before working, and there’d be one of Crowley’s ties  on the doorknob. 

And Balthazar wasn’t seeing anyone, nor did any of his new friends seem to be keen on boning. He was also keeping the company of a few women, so that didn’t help. 

But with the fact that Crowley was usually in the room when he wasn’t in the practice rooms, with or without Naomi (who seemed to hate him the moment he announced that he was, in fact, very gay), he couldn’t  _ masturbate.  _ At all. He was sexually frustrated, and that wasn’t something Balthazar was used to. Even when he thought he was straight, and then bi, he almost always had the ability to rub one out whenever, even if it was when he was in the shower with the door locked so he didn’t scar his younger brother. 

But the showers at the college were communal, and with only thin curtains. Unless Balthazar showered at some ungodly hour after his and Crowley’s agreed upon lights out, he was usually in the showers with at least one other guy. At night, he was too afraid that his roommate would hear, especially considering Balthazar’s half baked fantasies included  _ him. _

He couldn’t help it. Crowley was handsome, attractive, a warm accent and a sarcastic manner, all things that Balthazar found highly attractive. He was intelligent and had a wit about him that he enjoyed, and it was very hard for him to  _ not  _ fall in lust with him. So he just didn’t masturbate. And he wasn’t going to get rid of Naomi, because she  _ did  _ seem to make Crowley happy and he wasn’t a homewrecker, despite his reputation in high school. 

So, he took full advantage of being sexiled at least three times a week to get tutored in algebra, his worst subject, with a damn handsome tutor named Sam, who was a pre-law major. He was also in Balthazar’s English 102 class, and the two of them hit it off quickly, always discussing the homework for English after Sam patiently helped Balthazar through algebra. Balthazar went from muttering about how “C’s get degrees” to getting B’s and some very low A’s, which made him happy. 

Crowley had heard about Sam through Balthazar, and Crowley could tell that he did  _ not  _ like his tutor. Oh well, considering that Balthazar was improving in math, he wanted to kiss Sam most days, but Sam had his eyes on his own roommate, Garth. 

It’s not like Balthazar  _ wanted  _ to antagonize his roommate. It’s just that between the weekly violin playing due to full practice rooms, the three times a week sexiling, the lack of being able to masturbate at  _ all, _ and the fact that earphones/headphones are a foreign language to Crowley makes Balthazar want to commit homicide. He’s certain that he could make it look like an accident. 

“It sounds like Crowley’s a douchebag,” Sam said as they went over their grammar homework for English 102 after two hours of studying algebra one week before Halloween. 

“He’s kind of a douchebag,” Balthazar agreed. “A pompous one, but it’s like, what can I do?” 

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “Garth’s a great roommate.” he smiled to himself. 

“What’s that smile for?” Balthazar asked, genuinely happy for his friend. 

“Well,” Sam blushed. “It’s easy to have a great roommate when your roommate is your boyfriend.” 

“You went after him?” Balthazar grinned. “Atta boy!” He hugged Sam. “I’m so happy for you!” 

His phone buzzed and he looked at it. It was Crowley. 

_ To Balthazar (Roommate): Can you come let me into the room? Naomi has my key and she’s not here.  _

Balthazar gnawed on his lip as he showed the text to Sam. “I want to be nice, but-”

“But what he’s put you through makes you not want to be nice?” Sam finished. He shrugged. “It’s up to you.” 

“Why does she even have his key?” Balthazar frowned. “She’s not even in our dormitory, and we’re not supposed to give keys to our dorms to anyone, including significant others.” 

Sam shrugged. “Beats me.” 

_ To Crowley M.: Why does she have your key?  _

_ To Balthazar (Roommate): I don’t have to explain myself, do I? Where are you? _

_ To Crowley  M.: Being tutored because you sexiled me. Again.  _

_ To Balthazar (Roommate): Please, mate? My violin’s in there. _

_ To Crowley M.: This is my fault how? You’re the one who went against the rules. Where is SHE? _

_ To Balthazar (Roommate): She’s already in Music Theory 3. She can’t leave. Please. I’ll owe you.  _

_ To Crowley M: I want an entire week of being able to come back to the dorm and not be sexiled.  _

_ To Balthazar (Roommate): Done. Now,  _ please. _ I’ve got my lesson in thirty minutes. _

Balthazar gave Sam an apologetic look. “Want to walk with me?” he asked softly as he screenshot the conversation (just in case Naomi did something like delete the texts). 

“Sure,” Sam smiled. “We could do with a walk. And maybe afterwards, come eat with Garth and I?” 

“Sure,” Balthazar smiled. “Pizza from Lazy Tom’s?” 

“Sounds great,” Sam beamed.  

They packed up their stuff and walked to the dorm that Crowley and Balthazar were in. Going up to the third floor, they found Crowley anxiously pacing the hallway. 

“It’s about bloody time,” He snapped. 

“You’re welcome,” Balthazar said shortly, pulling his keys out of his pocket. Finding his dorm key, he slipped it into the lock. 

“Who’s the moose?” Crowley asked. 

“My tutor, Sam,” Balthazar said as he opened their dorm room and looked at Crowley. 

Sam gave a wave at Crowley. Crowley looked at Sam up and down and nodded. “Right, ‘tutoring’,” he said. He ducked in and grabbed his violin and looked at Balthazar. “Room’s yours for whatever you want to do with the moose,” he said. “I beat that algebra is a real  _ beast  _ to get through.” And with that, he left before Sam or Balthazar had a chance to retaliate. 

The tips of Sam’s ears turned flaming red and Balthazar glared at Crowley’s retreating back before looking at Sam. “Come on, I’m sure he’s just being an ass,” he said. He put his book bag on his bed and made sure he had his wallet, keys, and phone before smiling at Sam. “Come on, I’ve got a fake ID.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” Sam asked with a laugh as Balthazar locked the dorm room again. 

“A man needs his wine,” Balthazar shrugged. “Come on, let me meet that twink of yours.” 

“Garth is  _ not  _ a twink!” Sam squawked indignantly. 

“Compared to you, Sasquatch,” Balthazar grinned. “Yes, he is. And in general. But especially next to you. 

 

The week of Halloween, Balthazar spent in a half drunk stupor. Halloween was always the best time to get drunk and have sex. He took a shower and would sleep for two hours before popping some aspirin and going to class that week, but he was thankful he could do that since Crowley had taken their deal seriously and spent most of his time at Naomi’s dorm. 

The first week in November, however, spelled disaster. 

The Monday after Halloween, Crowley pulled Balthazar aside in the hallway of their dorm floor while they passed each other. Crowley smelled of his Scotch, which told Balthazar some shit happened the night before.

“Naomi and I broke up,” he said in a low voice. “I think she’s going to try something.” 

“Why’d you break up?” Balthazar asked, half in curiosity and half in need to know. Women could be cruel in their breakups. 

Crowley grimaced. 

“Look, man, I know we haven’t been exactly  _ sympatico _ ,” Balthazar said. “But women are insane, and depending on why you broke up could indicate the level of crazy we might be expecting.” 

Crowley sighed. “You’re right,” he said. “She found out that I’m not straight.” 

“Christian girl?” Balthazar asked. Crowley nodded. “Okay, so beyond that, why did you break up?”    
Crowley rubbed his hand over his face. “Well, she accused me of cheating,” he said, “‘Cause, you know, every bi is a cheater.” 

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “And?” 

“There were some words exchanged,” Crowley said. “And she threw a perfume bottle at my head.” 

“So you  _ noped  _ out,” Balthazar said. 

“Quicker than thirty-second notes,” Crowley said. “And she’s gone insane.” 

“Women usually do,” Balthazar said. “I’ll keep a look-out. You got your key back, right?” 

Crowley nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

“Not a problem.” Balthazar gave a smile. 

_ What’s the worst Naomi could do _ was his thought. 

 

They found out how bad when the two of them were coming back to their dorm after a long day two days later. 

The first indication that something was wrong was that their room was slightly ajar. Both Crowley and Balthazar immediately patted their pockets and found their respective keys. 

“Do you think she made a copy?” Crowley asked. 

“Maybe,” Balthazar said. He reached for his pepper spray and Crowley snorted. 

“What?” Balthazar hissed. “It may not help but I feel better.” 

“If you say so,” Crowley said complacently. 

Balthazar gently opened the door more and the two of them stepped in to look at the absolute  _ destruction  _ of the room. 

Every poster that both Crowley and Balthazar owned were ripped and cut to shreds, looking like confetti. Crowley’s sheets look like a psycho with a knife attacked them. Homophobic slurs were written all over the walls in Sharpie marker, and the entirety of their alcohol stash had been smashed on the ground. Scotch and red wine pooled on the floor, rugs ruined. 

Balthazar and Crowley looked at each other. 

“This is not going to end well,” Crowley groaned. 

Balthazar’s mind was working quickly. “We’ve got a before picture of our room, right?” he said. 

“Yeah, of course,” Crowley said. 

Balthazar pulled out his phone and took photos of the room. “Let’s go see the RA, explain what happened,” he said. “Then we can clean up. Maybe your mom can bring up some fresh sheets?” 

“Sure,” Crowley said almost dejectedly. “She’s going to go on how she knew that woman’s aura was bad and poison, though.” 

“That I can agree with, but it’ll be okay,” Balthazar said. “Come on. Let’s go show Benny.” 

 

Their RA, a bear of a man named Benny, was completely understanding and helped them obtain cleaning supplies, and the trio worked to clean the dorm room. They had two full black garbage bags by the time it was all said and done, and Crowley decided he didn’t want to press charges. Benny promised them that he’ll change the dorm locks in the morning and Balthazar loaned Crowley a set of sheets and his spare pillow and the two settled in for the night. 

Balthazar was typing on his laptop when Crowley spoke up. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to get caught in the crossfire.” 

“It’s fine,” Balthazar said. “I’m used to it.” 

Crowley arched a brow. “You’re used to being in the crossfire of insane women?” 

“I’ve been accused by more than woman of being ‘the other man’ after their boyfriend came out as bi,” Balthazar said. “Claiming I’m a bad influence and I’ve gotten more than my fair share of homophobic slurs.” He continued typing his essay as he spoke. “It’s something you have to get used to.” 

“That’s stupid,” Crowley snorted. 

“It is asinine, but until the straights actually pull their head out of their asses,” Balthazar shrugged. “What can you do?” 

Crowley nodded. “Well, thanks. I appreciate what you did.” 

“Of course,” Balthazar said. “What are roommates for?” A thought came to him. “Crowley, your violin.”

“That’s in my music cubby,” he said, “In the music building. Electronic lock.” 

Balthazar nodded. “Did you change the combination?” 

Crowley’s eyes widened. “You’ll be here if I run and check?” he asked. 

“Yeah, not going anywhere,” Balthazar assured his roommate. He felt bad for Crowley. 

Crowley sprinted out of the room and Balthazar continued writing his essay. He was looking forward to the weekend. Gabriel finally was getting a short break from culinary school and was going to swing by to visit, also bringing replacement posters for both him  _ and  _ Crowley. 

Balthazar looked up at the wall where he could still make out the outline of the word  _ faggot _ and he inhaled, then exhaled roughly. Words like that shouldn’t hurt, but they do, even after all this time. He concentrated on his essay, setting up a tutoring session with Sam as well.  

Crowley returned about thirty minutes later, his expression thunderous. 

“The little  _ whore _ ,” he spat. 

“What did she do?” Balthazar asked. 

Crowley held up the bow for his instrument. The hairs had been tightened to the point where the bow was literally fraying. 

Balthazar winced. “I take it you have to get a whole new bow?” he asked. 

“I will,” Crowley groaned. “I’ll text Mother. I’m just… I’ve got juries coming up, and concerts. I can’t  _ afford  _ this.” 

Balthazar sighed. “Karma will get her. Did you change the combination on your locker?’ he asked. 

Crowley nodded. “Do you mind if I turn out the lights?” he asked. “I just…” 

“Can you sleep through me typing?” Balthazar asked. “I’ve got a paper on the Crucible to finish.” 

“I can sleep through a storm,” Crowley confirmed. 

Balthazar nodded. “Sure.” 

 

The month of November was a blur. Both Crowley and Balthazar withdrew from each other and concentrated on their studies as midterms came and went before Thanksgiving, and then they had to crunch for finals. Neither of them bothered to replenish their alcohol supply, not wanting a repeat of what Naomi did (and they also had managed to convince Benny that it wasn’t there to begin with, they didn’t want to fuck that up). 

As the weeks melted together and their subjects did too, tensions mounted. Crowley was having difficulties finding a good bow for his violin that would actually make the instrument sound good. Balthazar couldn’t get the final chapter in algebra, not even with Sam’s patient tutoring. 

And Balthazar had nutted precisely once and it was when he had gone home for Thanksgiving.

Crowley and Balthazar snapped at each other constantly, resulting in both of them moodily working on homework loudly until one or the other left the room to study elsewhere.  

It was the week before finals, affectionately known among the student populace as “Dead Week”, and the two of them were on their last nerves. 

Crowley was at his class, and Balthazar didn’t have anything until 6 PM. It was mid afternoon, and he caught a whiff of himself. He  _ reeked. _

Granted, he hadn’t thought about even changing clothes, much less showering, in five or six days. He should probably shower. 

He gathered his shower supplies and made his way to the men’s showers, rolling out his neck and sighing in frustration. Texting Sam and Gabriel that he was going to shower, he’ll talk later, he found a shower towards the back and undressed. Throwing his clothes as far away as he could, he grabbed his supplies and slipped into the shower, grateful that he was the only one in there. 

The hot water did wonders for his body and as he lathered his hair in shampoo and let it sit in his hair while he poured body wash onto the loofah and began scrubbing himself down. The acts calmed  him down enough that he could think clearly. He only had two papers and a worksheet in his algebra study guide to do, and considering his first final was Monday and it was Thursday, he had time. 

That’s when he realized:  _ he was alone in the shower. _

His cock thickened and he took himself in hand, soapy hand covering him, and he began to stroke, tilting his head back against the tiles as the shitty water pressure rained down on him. 

He let his mind wander to Crowley, and how  _ hot  _ he looked when he was snapping at Balthazar. How his accent would become more prominent, his very obvious Scottish raising coming out in the vocabulary he used. Balthazar’s fairly certain that he could cum from listening to Crowley alone. 

What would he be like in bed? Tender and affectionate, or rough and dominating? Would he lead or submit? Top, bottom, or doesn’t matter? It really didn’t matter to Balthazar, in all honesty. He loved sex, in all of its forms, and he couldn’t decide which he liked better. 

“Crowley,” he breathed, stroking himself faster. The spray washed the soap off his body, lightly adding a background harmony to the sounds of Balthazar’s hand around his cock and the soft moans echoing from his throat, occasionally forming Crowley’s name. 

The strokes remained long and languid. Balthazar was going to enjoy this time alone, in the shower, imagining his roommate. How calloused were Crowley’s hands? How would those clever fingers that could find the hardest notes on the violin feel inside of him? What would Crowley taste like?

These questions swirled in Balthazar’s brain, demanding answers, and they were loud. His strokes sped up and he didn’t care if anybody (but Crowley, God, anybody but his roommate) saw or heard him. He just needed this release. Maybe he could concentrate better if he had an orgasm. That was statistically likely, right? 

He’d have to ask Sam about that. 

He was so wrapped up in himself, in the fantasy that he had created, that he didn’t hear the door to the communal showers open, nor the sound of flip flops smacking on the tile floor, getting closer and closer to him. His moans turned into whimpers and he inhaled sharply, keeping back a whine as he slowly backed off. He could almost hear Crowley saying  _ Not yet, Bal. Not yet. Soon  _ as he did so and he took a shaky breath. He loved edging himself, teasing himself about an orgasm that was so close and yet, so far away. 

So he shrieked when he snapped his eyes open as the shower curtain was drawn back and there was Crowley in his naked glory. 

“Do you have any idea what you bloody sound like?” the other man growled. “It’s like a surround sound of pornography in here.” 

“I’m sorr-” Crowley’s lips crashed to Balthazar’s and he barely managed to keep his balance as he caught the other man, yanking the flimsy shower curtain closed. 

Crowley’s mouth was hot, heavy, intoxicating, tasting of coffee and a hint of the salt and vinegar chips Balthazar knew he preferred. He fisted his hand in dark hair and felt Crowley rock against him. 

“I have been wanting this for  _ weeks _ , you daft bugger,” Crowley breathed as he broke. “Wanted you to fuck me silly for months.” 

“Even while with Naomi?” Balthazar breathed.    
“Yes,” Crowley groaned. “She was good, but she was very self absorbed about her pleasure.” 

“Not surprised,” Balthazar breathed, mouthing down the side of Crowley’s neck. “I thought you had a lesson?” 

“Got out early,” Crowley groaned. “Decided to clear my head with a hot shower that has piss poor water pressure and heard my name.” 

Balthazar blushed and groaned. 

“Could tell it was you,” Crowley murmured. “You sounded so sweet, so needy.” He withdrew a little bit to get a good look and smirked. “I gotta say, I like what I see. But we probably shouldn’t fuck in here.” 

“Yeah, no,” Balthazar laughed. “Smart idea, we’d break something. Like our necks.” 

“That, and I’m not keen on using conditioner as lube,” Crowley chuckled lowly. “Gotta take something now, angel, though, especially with those sinful noises,” he murmured. 

“I’m in no way an angel,” Balthazar protested, groaning as Crowley wrapped his hand around Balthazar’s cock. 

“Saint, martyr, whatever,” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Just let me jerk you off, Bal. Please.” 

“If you want,” Balthazar murmured, running his nose along Crowley’s as he reached for the other man’s cock. It was hard, and thick, and as Balthazar stroked and drew a moan from his partner, he was pleased to learn that he was uncut. 

“I see your mother left the turtleneck on,” Balthazar murmured. 

Crowley chuckled. “I grew up in Scotland, Bal, it’s not as common to circumcise over in there,” he said. “Kind of like the feel of your cut one, though.” 

Balthazar laughed breathlessly, gasping as Crowley gently slipped his thumbnail into the slit. “Fuck, Crow,” he groaned. 

“Do you top or bottom?” Crowley breathed. “‘Cause I’d love to see you ride me.” 

“You’re far too coherent,” Balthazar groaned, grabbing Crowley’s face with his free hand and kissing him deeply, teeth clacking against each other. 

It was hot and wet and sloppy, two young men trying to find their rhythm with each other for the first time as sexual tension, frustration over schoolwork, and the anger over what Naomi did seeped out of them and into eating each other’s faces off as they worked each other to completion. Balthazar had the feeling that his lips would be swollen and red, and that there may even be blood. But the knowledge that he was doing the same to Crowley, that Crowley was lettign him, and that it was Crowley he was with now, made him keen in pleasure and soon, he came between them, grabbing onto Crowley’s cock tightly as he pressed the slightly shorter man up against the wall, fist pounding at the stonework as he gasped and moaned into Crowley’s mouth soft whispers of his name. 

Crowley came with a harsh bite to Balthazar’s lower lip not long after that, the two of them gasping and groaning as they came down from their highs. 

They listened for a few moments. Only hearing their shower running, they relaxed and gave soft giggles. 

“That’s the most reckless thing I’ve done,” Crowley murmured once they calmed down. 

Balthazar laughed. “Is that including dating Naomi?” he teased. 

“You ever want my cock, angel,” Crowley murmured, “and to be called mine, you’ll never mention that cunt’s name like that again.” 

Something pounded in Balthazar’s chest. He thought it was his heart. “Do you mean it?” 

“The bit about us being together?” Crowley asked. “Yeah. I do.” 

Balthazar beamed. “I’d love to be your boyfriend.” He kissed Crowley sweetly. “Let’s finish our shower, and then study.” 

Crowley smiled. “Sounds good.” He paused. “You never answered my question.” 

“Whatever you want, I’m an easy man,” Balthazar smiled. 

This felt like a weird fever Dead Week dream, but Balthazar couldn’t care less. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Twitter: @Alendra_Dragon
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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